'…If I
Turn my back I'm defenceless
And to give in to fate seems senseless
If I hide my pride and let it all go on then they'll
Take from me till everything is gone
If I let them go I'll be outdone
But if I try to catch them I'll be outrun
If I'm killed by the questions like a cancer
Then I'll be buried in the silence of the answer
(By myself)…'

Linkin Park By Myself

Chapter fifteen Fate

There are some things in life which never get boring. Say, stealing your dad's credit card and buying clothes that you really don't need, but want in any case. Somewhat pointless, but never boring. Or for the braver of you, there's always pissing off shopping assistants by trying a crate full of testers and not buying a single product. Again, utterly pointless, but never, ever boring.

And then there are things that do get boring. And plodding through endless miles of dull, hilly countryside is one of those things that is very, very boring indeed. Edoras lay some miles back along the way that almost the entirety of its inhabitants had wearily trekked. The she-Elf found that as the convoy wasted the hours away on the four day journey to Helms-deep there was little more to do than wile away the time in morbid silence. Nobody was in the mood to talk. The inhabitants of the deserted town were none too overjoyed with the prospects that lay ahead and mostly kept themselves to themselves. The other members of her party were somewhere up front she presumed, possibly at the head of the caravan with King Theoden. It didn't matter, she hadn't really expected it to be all action in any case, but in the back of her mind, something itched for a fight.

That was what Yuna was when it came down to it. A fighter. Not the babysitter she had been reduced to. In her right hand she loosely held the reins to the chocolate-brown horse on which Telnariel and her rather scruffy looking brother were safely mounted. More and more she found herself being drawn into games such as count the several hundred people in front of you or which big, fluffy cloud looks like what. By now her situation was such that she was actually beginning to discern the "pony" in the cloud that otherwise resembled…a cloud .To tell the truth, she couldn't see the difference between one formation or the other. It was tedious. It was pointless. And to a greater extent, it was driving her insane. She would have given almost anything to face down a band of Orcs, Goblins or even Uruk-Hai. It didn't matter. She longed for chance to dispose of something with a bit of muscle, something would actually threaten her life to an extent.

It had been too long and she was beginning to miss the adrenaline that came with it. The knowledge that you now held your life and the life of those around you in your hands. One false move could either wipe out you and your comrades, or save the day. It was a constant barrage of split-second decisions, muscle-wrenching moves where you pushed yourself to the limit, and above all the satisfaction that came with putting an end to another miserable and petty force of darkness.

But, for now at least there was no sign of any marauders appearing over one of the lush, yellow-green coloured hills to disturb their march. And then a blissful dawn came to her clouded mind's sky. Why was she yearning for a battle? She would get one in no longer than perhaps a couple of days. Whatever happened at Helms-deep, the fact that they would not escape a most likely full on siege with the army Saruman had undoubtedly cooked up still rung true. Though King Theoden opposed the thought of outright warfare, no matter what he did, the tides had already turned.

It was the day before that they had sat in his hall. Gandalf trying to convince the King to ride out and meet them head-on, a plan that even Yuna agreed would have undoubtedly meant suicide. Consequential numbers of the Rohirrim had followed Eomer out of the Riddermark, who himself had been banished by the unwisely council of the aptly named Wormtongue, leaving their defences and attack with a hole that was almost impossible to fill. Meeting Sarurman's horde out on the open plane would mean the likely destruction of Theoden's own army. Then nothing would be able to stop the intruders pouring into Rohan. So he had opted for what seemed the cowardly option instead of the hero's and had started his people on the path that meant they would unquestionably have shelter but only presumably safety. It was the risk he had to take. And it was a much better one than waiting for their deaths at Edoras.

Still the King refused to send messengers to Eomer, claiming they would not reach there in time for assistance to be called. But Yuna felt the inkling of something else, was it…shame? And besides, The White Wizard held other plans.

"Helm's Deep!" Gimli spat the word as they headed in a small procession down to the stables. "They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight." Yuna who was trailing lazily behind scoffed and added quietly:

"They wouldn't be standing for long." The dwarf didn't seem to hear the comment however and merely ranted on unhindered.

"Who will defend them if not their King?" He asked, though it was largely rhetorical.

"The King is only doing what he thinks is best for his people." The Ranger replied nonetheless. 'Helms-deep has saved them in the past.'

"There is no way out of that ravine." Gandalf added pointedly. The two headed on further whilst Gimli, Yuna and Legolas stayed near the entrance, allowing them some semblance of privacy. "Theoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he's leading them to safety, what they will get is a massacre." A brief silence and then directly to Aragorn. "Theoden has a strong will but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan." He looked his counterpart straight in the eye before uttering: "He will need you before the end Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. Their defences have to hold."

'They will.' He returned with exactly what Gandalf wanted to hear. With that, the Wizard turned stroking down Shadowfax's snow-white mane.

'The Grey Pilgrim.' He muttered, whether it was to the horse or those standing by was left undecided. 'That's what they used to call me. Three hundred lives of men I have walked this earth, and now, I have no time. Good luck.' He said and mounted his steed. 'My search will not be in vain. Look to my coming, on the first light of the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east.' With that the horse sped away through the gate, practically trampling Yuna and the other two at that end in its haste, they only barely managed to jump clear out of its way.

And that was it, Gandalf had speed through and out of Edoras like a bat out of Hell, determined to catch his quarry before it was too late. Yunalesca looked to her horse, who was doing nothing at all to ignore Arod's constant attentions. If anything she was encouraging it. She sighed and turned to leave, before the shuffling of hooves turned her round again to face a sight that would have most mothers covering their children's naïve eyes.

"Get off!" She yelled at Arod, bringing her hand around in a stinging slap to his rump. He trotted away contentedly, flicking his tail. Túlka nickered nonchalantly as Yuna tugged on her forelock. "Listen, you, what kind of behaviour is that? Seriously, girl, you're hornier than a mare in season." She thought about that statement for a second or two. "Oh, right. Well….just try not to get pregnant. I know I said you'd make the best mother in Rohan one day, but I didn't mean now." Túlka's tongue flicked out to lick Yuna's face, catching her off guard. "Now that was uncalled for!" Túlka snorted. "Stupid horse…" She heard Legolas chuckle quietly from somewhere behind her. She whipped round to glare at him. "Oh don't you start, It's your fault if I've got a miniature Arod running around in a few month's time."

"Why is it my fault? As I recall, Túlka here did not seem to object to his affections." He replied, cocking his head ever so slightly. Yuna turned to stroke Túlka's mane as she thought of how stupid it was that they were now talking about…what they were talking about.

"He wouldn't know what to do with her." She said primly, "Just because she likes younger horses…" The conversation ended there, with Legolas eyeing her warily as he backed out of the stables.

It was the second day into the trek. Night had come most uneventfully but still there was an air of dread held in its velvety-black skies. But dawn had cracked upon the horizon as it had done a million times before and with it came a renewed hope that these evictees would live to see the sun shine upon the golden hall once more.

The she-Elf now somehow found herself, still leading along the two blond haired, wide-eyed kids, but now also to side paced Aragorn. Gimli was, surprisingly, mounted and being led by Eowyn, who had changed from her more noble attire into more suitable travelling garments. As for the elf, he was at scouting somewhere ahead of the party and hadn't been back in the last hour or so.

"It's true, you don't see many dwarf woman." Gimli went on, Yuna could almost see the Lady of Rohan regretting her early question. "Well, in fact they are so alike in voice and appearance…"He chuckled "…they are mistaken for dwarf men." Eowyn looked bemused to the Ranger.

"It's the beards." He whispered helpfully. She smiled as she discreetly shushed him.

"And this in turn has given rise to the belief that there are no dwarf women." He said exasperatedly, Eowyn's grin widened. "And that dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground!" The Lady laughed audibly at this last statement. "Which of course is ridiculous." The dwarf added. His horse neighed wildly and was about to bolt when Eowyn checked herself and managed to calm it.

But now there was something else. Yuna couldn't help it; a question was begging to get out, pleading and gnawing at her.

"Gimli." She started in the sweetest voice she could muster. "Are you a woman?" He looked at her shocked and his cheeks were flushed with a fetching shade of scarlet. He huffed for a while without bringing out a response before he spoke.

"What kind of a stupid question is that!" He managed.

"A just one considering what you said, and since you're getting so angry shall I take that as a yes?'" There was a deep snigger from Aragorn's direction. The gnome turned in the saddle, remarkably managing not to fall of and shot a glare his way, silencing any follow-ups.

"But…" Came the soft, innocent voice of Telnariel. "He can't be a woman, because his chest isn't nearly as huge as Yunie's." She didn't know it was possible for so many people to turn so red in so short a time.

"Heh heh…kids…" She managed, it would have to do. Why hadn't Yuna just kept her mouth shut?

The dwarf was looking at her with an air of satisfaction, though this was somewhat hindered by strawberry hue clutching feverishly to his bearded face. Yes, kids. They have this way of saying what is outright obvious but doesn't really need to be said, in other words the truth. And their timing is impeccable, no doubt a sixth sense means that embarrassment is kept to the maximum. Genius. The half-Elf attempted to give the miniature blonde a Look™. She grinned cutely, completely and utterly unaware of what she had done.

It was gonna be a long trip.

Night fell once more. Images jumped and cascaded in front of my eyes as I stared into the cracking embers of a campfire. My eyes closed slowly. I could still feel the heat on my eyelids, on my hands, flames flicking around me like whip tongues. Memories swirled in my vision. Heat, burning wood, muffled cries for help, screams…

flash

A snowy-haired woman ran over the uneven terrain on bare feet. A similarly coloured child was clutched to her breast like a lifeline. She ran onwards, never faltering, but occasionally looking back to see a village up in flames, the people scattered like chickens escaping the hutch. Her feet made no sound as she ran, either that, or what little noise they made was drowned out by the deafening roar of flames. The child's eyes were large, red-rimmed emeralds, as oppose to the mother's ocean-coloured pools, tears flowing freely, streaking her otherwise dirty and sooty face.

There were people in front of them as well, mothers and children, all looking equally frightened and uncertain.

The memory faded away as a new one presented itself…

flash

The woman stood, clutching the child's hand tightly as her tears once again flowed freely. A man was on a horse, speeding off into the distance, kicking up a small amount of dust in his wake. His short, raven hair flew out behind him as he turned his head ever so slightly, his bright green eyes locking with those of the woman as she wept. The child clung to her mother's leg, uttering a single word in a tear-broken voice.

"…daddy…"

I could smell it before I saw it, even heard it for that matter. It's scent like that of a wolves but with added potency. It crested the hill like a conqueror from a recently won battle, already victorious. Down below its heaving body, the train came to a halt as more and more stared up to meet a face hunger and a body built for lethality. Canines dripped with saliva as the beast panted, its beady eyes picking out its first victim, soon to be one of many. It started down the hill, like an avalanche. Its muscles carrying it's shear bulk with efficiency as it closed on the space separating it from its prey.

I didn't have much time. People where just standing round, scared, helpless, unmoving. They would run, eventually, but by then it would already be too late. And besides, there was no one else who had a hope of stopping it. I made out where it was heading. A woman, hunched slightly by the pack she carried. She saw it coming, but like the others didn't move, held steadfast by her fear.

Before another heartbeat I was dashing in her direction. I could get there in time, I knew I would, I had to.

A few metres still separated us as the beasts powerful hind legs pushed off from the ground and it was soaring through the air. But it would come down on its target. Hard. The woman, who couldn't have been taller than five and a half feet, dropped her encumbering baggage and brought her hands up reflectively, shielding her face. It wouldn't save her; the wolf would rip through her like a rag doll.

A few feet now. I could almost hear the pounding of the woman's heart in her chest. The wolves sped with adrenaline as it neared her. Her breath reduced to a whimper, the creature's in huge gulps as it took in her welcome scent.

Inches now. I opened my arms as I reached her, wrapped them around her chest and brought us both down to the floor. My shoulder impacted as together we hit the soil. I breathed a short sigh of relief as the creature continued on over us. It landed perfectly a few metres away, front paws then back connecting with the ground. It was only then I noticed the empty saddle strapped to its torso. The wolf had to have thrown its rider and broken away from the pack. But that meant that there were defiantly others, the question was where, and did anyone know?

It turned to stare at me almost hurt that I had taken away its kill. For the moment it simply remained motionless apart from the thumping of its heart. But it wouldn't last long, and I had to get the woman out of here. She shook from fear, boring her terrified brown eyes into mine for what seemed to be an eternity.

"Stay calm." I whispered despite the fact she was anything but. I couldn't say I was much better. The sudden burst of action had sent my head spinning. "When I tell you to run, don't hesitate and don't think of going before then or it'll tear you apart. Understand?' She blinked then gave a minute nod. "It'll chase after you but don't worry, I'll take it down." Silence and then. "Don't look back." The Warg was coming to its senses and growled, low, deep and menacing. It lifted a blackened gum to reveal it's yellowing, cavity covered teeth. It looked…mad, to be light. The woman whimpered again. Slowly, as not to alarm the rusty-brown creature in front of us both, I reached a hand down to the short, dagger-like sword on my right hip, carefully pulling it free from its sheath. I could feel my own heart pounding and swallowed hard. I readied myself to stand, amazed that the beast still had not pounced. I could take it.

With all the strength I had I hefted us both to a half-crouching position and relinquished my grip on her shivering frame.

"Run!" I shouted. It was a few seconds before her legs got the message her brain already understood and she half-ran half-stumbled away into the thin crowd that gathered out of frightened curiosity.

The warg bounded after its prey, paying the barest of glances to me. That was its mistake. Before it knew what was going on, I had tackled it from one side and was rolling on the grassy plane, fighting for a spot to thrust my sword. Its head reared up, and was soon severed as my blade came across. Moving forward quickly, I yanked the sword out, shouted a command to the people congregated, breathed a sigh of relief as Eowyn came over the hill, half the population of Rohan in tow, and ran for my beloved Túlka.

The mare was bucking and tossing her head impatiently as she watched the others speed off. In the space of a few seconds I had caught up to her, she recognised me immediately and whinnied happily.

A scream behind me. In a reflex action, my Head whipped around in time to see yet another powerless civilian frozen with the sight of a warg in mid-air, claws poised, jaws apart and glistening. My hand flew to my hip, pulled out a dagger and in one swift movement, my body swivled, the dagger was thrown, I continued my split-second twirl and eventually my hand found Tulka's back, and I hauled myself up and onto my horse, leaning forward as she sped up. All this took place in about two seconds, I relished the satisfying crunch that emitted from the soon-to-be warg corpse as my dagger connected. Another selfless act. Perhaps after the battle for Rohan, if anyone survives, maybe then I'll have done enough to leave these shores…

I snapped back to reality as the familiar stench of blood, human and warg alike, flooded my senses. I had caught up to the others now, I could feel the hooves thundering on the ground, the shouts and screams of dying creatures echoing through the air. My eyes caught a shimmer of flawless blonde and auburn frizz, but where was Aragorn? He blended in far too well with the humans around here, but I soon spotted the glistening raven hair, accentuated by lack of helmet. Auburn frizz was gone by the time I looked back, idly kicking an orcish rider of its mount. I heard the bellow of a dwarf and saw where he had disappeared to. His tiny legs were kicking profusely from beneath a collapsed warg. He was shaking his head as if trying to ward off his own (or possibly the warg's, I thought later on) stench. It was sadistically comical to say the very least.

Feeling that I should probably relieve the vertically challenged ball of metal and hair, I drew a halberd from a convenient corpse and swiped it round to at least partially knock the warg out of the way. I looked back to check he had got loose, and my heart sank to se the same pair of Dwarvish feet kicking out from under the creature. Sighing dramatically, I dismounted quickly and sped towards where he lay, immobile. I saw a rider do the same, knife drawn and ready to plunge into an unsuspecting Gimli. With an incredibly unladylike kick to its head, this notion was soon disbanded and I was left with the cheerful task of hauling the warg off Gimli.

This, however, proved to be rather difficult. The creature wouldn't budge, and the shouts of an enraged dwarf only made the experience even more unbearable. A shout form somewhere to my right informed me that if I didn't do something soon, I too would fall prey. A sword was drawn and swung around to my left, disabling the approaching warg momentarily. Unfortunately, this strike was not enough to kill, merely warn the beast that I was not a force to be reckoned with. Its balance regained, it leapt forward, teeth barred and glistening as it lunged for my throat. I ducked and shot my blade upwards, cutting it clean through the throat. As it fell, the only thing left for me to do without being crushed was to drop to the blood-soaked earth and roll to one side. As I did this, I caught sight of a warg perched on top of the fallen creature covering Gimli, glaring at the Dwarf with hungry eyes.

I got to my feet and pirouetted round to see a spear driven through its back by none other than Aragorn himself. I ran forward to relieve Gimli of the two corpses that were piled on top of him. A swift kick dealt with one, while the other required a little more muscle. A moment or two of pushing and the diminutive fighter was free, mumbling some curse or another under his breath.

The Ranger, I could see him out of the corner of my eye. One second he was mounted and fighting, the next he was on the ground, only just managing to catch hold of a fast paced warg. He clambered on behind the rider as the beast sped on, the wind rippling his hair and cloak dramatically. His lip was bleeding, he had several small cuts on his face, and a miniature gash on one of his hands. That was all I could make out from my vantage point. His sword had long since been knocked from his grasp, and he was using his fists to pummel the warg rider into submission. From what I could see it wasn't working very well. I scanned the horizon for Túlka, and, not finding her anywhere, whistled then called as loud as my cracked voice would allow. She soon came over and I mounted, rearing round to follow the speeding warg.

My breath caught in my throat for the briefest of moments as I saw the rough cliff edge they were heading to. The rider didn't seem to notice, neither did the warg, and neither did Aragorn. The situation didn't look too bright for any of them, though it was looking slightly better for the rider, whom had been knocked off by the force of a well-aimed punch, and was now in the grass some way behind. Aragorn was on the warg, still heading towards the cliff, fighting to gather some control. I wasn't going to make it there in time, even travelling as fast as my mare would take me. I cried out to him, battling for his attention, begging him to hear me and get off the denizen of Isengard. An icy hand gripped my heart as I realised the cold truth. It was too late, they were metres from the edge already, the warg was bucking and tossing its head around as if possessed. The metres became feet, inches, and finally…

I choked on my breath as they went over, Aragorn struggling in vain to find a handhold. No one else seemed to have seen it, I skimmed the surrounding area to conform this. I carried on my course until I was a few feet away from the cliff, at which point I hurriedly dismounted and dropped to my hands and knees, peering over the cliff's edge. I saw the water rushing beneath, I saw the bare cliff face, and nothing more. I shouted out a few times, waiting anxiously for a response, anything, anything to contradict my fears.

He was gone. It was as if the whole thing was in slow motion, replaying over and over again in my head, mocking me, questioning me. Why wasn't I there? Was I too slow? Why didn't I react quicker? Why did I feel it was my fault? My face burned with something that might have been embarrassment if it weren't for the current situation.

So many thoughts ran through my head. Why did this happen now? The humans had a small enough chance as it was. They needed a leader. Someone like Aragorn. But Aragorn wasn't here anymore. Now, who was left? Who would lead them to victory and then rebuild a shattered civilisation? It seemed like a fantasy, a fairytale ending. That sort of thing never happened in reality.

But…at least for a while I had tried to believe it. It didn't seem too far off anymore, not with a leader like Aragorn. Despite the fact I would have spat at the thought a few months ago. But even I had to admit he had grown up. He was no longer the stubborn child he was before, no longer the infuriating youth whom had dared to be so insolent. Now he was…just what he was supposed to be, a King among men, if not in title, then in heart and spirit. It was strange in a way, strange how he had changed so much in such a short time (or perhaps it was simply because a decade seemed to flow past in the dull torture of immortality), strange what it was he had changed into.

And now he was dead, gone forever, lost to the world, never to achieve the destiny that was his.

The thought sent me screaming back into reality. Gone, dead, forever. What would they say? I got up form my hands and knees into a sitting position as I contemplated the gravity of the situation.

The others were coming, I could feel their footfalls on the ground as they approached. I was vaguely aware of those gathered around me. They spoke loudly, but I wasn't listening. I could already hear in my mind's ear what they were saying. Where is Lord Aragorn? Who saw him last? Where did he go? I wanted to simply cry out "He's dead, he fell, he's gone." But I couldn't bring myself to do it, they would find out eventually anyway. I vaguely heard the despicable creature some distance away cough and acknowledge the fact that it was alive. Legolas wasted no time in interrogating the rider. I heard the phrase "He's lying." At least once escape the Elf's mouth. Denial.

"No, he's not." I said quietly, almost whispering. His head snapped toward me. I could feel the other's eyes on me. "He's not lying. Aragorn is…he…he fell. Off the cliff…I wasn't fast enough to stop it." Various gasps and murmurs of disbelief ran through the small crowd assembled. I felt strangely obliged to continue. "There…was nothing I could do, the warg…it carried him straight over. The rider fell off before. He…he's not lying…" My voice went silent as I head the faint, sickly laughter of the aforementioned rider. My head remained bowed as I sat, my feet over the edge of the cliff.

There were some more quiet murmuring and lip-biting silences as the truth sunk in. Eventually, they drifted away, I didn't really notice until a hand was placed on my shoulder. I looked up to see Legolas, an unreadable expression on his face. Well, at least unreadable to anyone bellow the age of five hundred. Behind the mask he kept up, I could see the pain shining in his eyes, the uncertainty knitting his dark brows together ever so slightly. His cheeks seemed slightly more accentuated with the effort of keeping his face expressionless. I could read his grief just as easily as I could any other. I had always had an empathetic gift, and it was times like these that it was most useful. I took the offered hand and rose to my feet, keeping my eyes low as I nodded and headed solemnly to Túlka.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Not one of tears, that was a forbidden luxury for me, no, the thing that plagued me and made time slip by unchecked was far worse. Guilt. I could have been there. Been there to grab his hand as the warg tumbled over. Been there to save the race of men's last hope. 'It could have been different.' The thought hissed at me from inside my head, making it all the more difficult to silence. Five, maybe ten more seconds was the most I would need. But there was no way to break into the past, it was a gift not even Sauron possessed and thankfully so. And so I asked myself what was there now? Hope? Hope that, like Gandalf before him, Aragorn too would rise from the ashes and join the world of those still living. Even though, with the battle coming, for how much longer that would be was held in question.

But there was another question that haunted me. Why did I care? It may have seemed heartless but it was true enough. I hadn't known the reluctant heir for long and half that meagre time was spent at each other's throats. It was almost pitiful to think that after millennia's of locking feelings away, this would make me break. Make me shed the façade that I had instinctively built to shield what lay out in the world from what was held beneath the surface. No, Aragorn wasn't coming back. I would grieve, maybe even in the presence of others such as Legolas or the Dwarf, it was expected. But in my mind he was already a distant memory. So finally, like far too many others before him, I left the Dunedin in the past.

"Yuna…?" It was the elf. I hadn't noticed him move belong side me or the fact that he had been calling my name for the last minute or so. I turned to face him slowly, a look of sorrow betrayed on my features. I could see the questions on his lips. " Are you sure you didn't see him down there?" or "Is there anyway you could have made a mistake?" For him and Gimli both there was still that glimmer of hope. Either to find him alive or to give him the send off he deserved. "Are you alright?" It was sincere, honest, carefully phrased and direct. I furrowed my brow in brief puzzlement.

"Yes, I…was just thinking." I replied in the same careful tone, still trying to work out what had made him ask the question in the first place. It wasn't sympathy. No, the Elf was a fast learner, sympathy wouldn't get him anywhere in my mental filing cabinet. It was more out of genuine interest. Concern, even. He actually wanted to know how I felt. It was a strange sensation, though not so much odd as foreign. He nodded, a softer version of the same expression he had worn earlier written clearly on his face. I continued, somewhat unsure. "I…I…" I was lost for words. How could I tell him everything? Not only would it depress me to the extreme, but it would also depress one of the best fighters we had in the vicinity. I let the conversation trail off. A silence filled the air, punctuated only by the soft thundering of hooves bellow. He didn't seem to mind, accepting my unwillingness to speak without question. It was something I was grateful for, and even more so towards the fact that the ensuing silence was not an uncomfortable or empty one.

It wasn't long before the fortress of Helm's Deep towered over the horizon, the mountains, making for a stunning backdrop. A thought struck me. What of Eowyn? What would she have to say about the demise of Aragorn? It was clear she liked him, or, had liked him, I mentally corrected myself. The entire group travelling with me now was already downhearted, the last thing we needed was for the rest of Rohan's inhabitants to feel the same way. I put such depressing thoughts aside for the moment, concentrating on the road ahead for the time being.

The slurps from a Dwarven bear mug gave me some focus as I thought over our arrival at the Deep. I couldn't hear very well what was being said over the noise created by grieving wives and mothers alike, but I could read her face like an open book. First there was the little gasp of surprise, a slight shaking of the head, the aversion of the eyes, the thoughtful look, confusion portrayed by knitted brows, the unconscious moistening of the lips. It was all there, every twitch drove my self esteem down even lower. I couldn't bear to look at her painfully predictable reaction, even though I knew it was coming. The voice at the back of my head still screamed 'it's your fault, you should have been there, you could have saved him.' I knew it was stupid, but I couldn't help blaming myself, I was used to it. Everything seemed to be my fault in one way or another.

Now, as I sat at a dark wooden table, marked by knives and scraped by shields and armour, I pondered over a single question.

Why?

Why did it have to happen? Why did hope present itself, small, impossible, meagre, but still there, only to be snatched away again? Why was it my fault? Why did I care so much?

The Elf had been here earlier as the three of us brooded over the day's grim events. They had spoken of memories of the ranger, days, months spent in his company. I realised more and more just how wrong I had been about him. He really had grown up. Just thinking that made me feel like a proud aunt or uncle, finally accepting him into the family or something equally stupid and random. They told stories of heroism, stupidity, friendship, dangers braved and battles won, all in the company of Aragorn. The only tale I had to share was one I was not about to think of. Our first meeting, and certainly the most unpleasant one. The still-healing scar serving as a constant reminder that immortality does not mean invincibility. Elves could just as easily be slain as men. I could just as easily have fallen as Aragorn.

The thought startled me for a moment. How strange that I would think of it that way. But then again, anyone could have been in Aragorn's or even my position. Why? Why did it have to be possibly the most important person fighting that hour?

It had indeed been a sorry hour. I found myself wishing with all I had that I could somehow turn back the clock, that I could put myself in his position instead. The thought that I would so readily sacrifice my own life like that startled me somewhat, and I remained fairly silent for the remainder of our discussion.

Gimli had resorted to drowning his sorrows, and rather loudly at that. If I had a pipe, I might have fumigated my sorrows, but it was not to be, instead, I had sat fairly motionless for a half-hour or so merely thinking. Thinking of what had been said, what my role now was. Some time ago, the Elf had left, leaving me with a Dwarf and an ale mug to converse with.

I got up, rather suddenly, and headed for a narrow, spiral staircase. I was sure it led onto some form of tower higher up, but at the moment I didn't really care.

It did, in fact, lead to a tower, situated some way towards the back of the fortress. And, to my surprise, was the same spot the only other pointy-eared immortal on the premises had sought refuge. Legolas looked up as I rounded the last flight of stairs, nodding to acknowledge my presence. There was a silence for a moment or so, before:

"How do you cope?" Another completely sincere query from the Elf. I looked at him questioningly. "How do you cope with…with loss?" Then it hit me, Aragorn was probably one of his only human friends. He probably had a hard time understanding the prospect of death like this. Of course, he was no stranger to battle, he would have seen comrades fall and even come close to death himself, but this was different somehow. There was not even a body to honour, not even the satisfaction of knowing he died in the midst of battle, bravely fighting on despite his wounds. But why was he asking me? Was it because I was around humans a lot? I thought that had to be it. The only places I could get supplies were small human villages to the north of Rohan. I was well acquainted with the idea of death. I had my own remedy, but I already sounded heartless enough as it was at times. Did I really want to tell him? I decided I might was well, better he hear it now then slowly and painfully discover it by himself.

"I don't." I replied simply. His forehead creased slightly, trying to comprehend the statement. "I don't know many people whose loss I would have to 'cope' with." I averted my eyes. "Lord Elrond, perhaps, maybe even Haldir, but no humans. That's how I cope. I never put myself in a position where I would have to 'cope.'" I sighed, lowering my head, not daring to meet his eyes. "One piece of advice, learned well through many unpleasant experiences: Never get close to anyone. Never form steadfast friendships, never make too many friends, never let anyone too close, never fall in love. Things never last, one way or the other, they're always taken away." I surprised myself with that declaration. But it was true. Those were the laws I had lived by for decades, centuries, millennia. They had never steered me wrong, I never grieved for anyone, I had learned a long time ago it made no difference, they were gone whether you liked it or not, and crying wouldn't help.

"That's no way to live your life." He said. My head shot up. " Of course, if you never get close to anyone, you will never have to grieve for their loss. But…sometimes, isn't the time you spent together worth that pain?"

I had never thought about it like that before. He was right, looking into his eyes, I could see that, even through the grief, he would never have given up having met the ranger. However, things weren't the same for me. I was never that close to anyone to care for them so. In fact, the closest thing I had to a best friend was my horse. I would have grinned with the thought if not for an Elven prince studying my expression intently.

"Perhaps." I stated cryptically. "But you live a far different life to mine. I have seen too many trusted friends and allies die before me as I stood there, powerless to help them."

"And what of your parents, how did you cope with their loss?" It wasn't a heartless question, simply an honest one, however tactless.

'…daddy…' The thought sent my eyes burning with something in between rage and sorrow. "I didn't. I never have." I replied in a this-conversation-is-over tone. He nodded, understanding. I rose to my feet, and headed towards the narrow staircase, wanting to be alone. There was too much happening all at once, too many memories surfacing coldly. My eyes stung. Why?

I was in the Hornburg now, making my way slowly but surely to the walls of the fortress, a somewhat secluded area someway down the great gate. Here I could think.

I went to Rivendell with the sole purpose of delivering a message, and leaving, for good. How, then, did I get dragged into this? Why did I let myself be led so easily into a war between humanity and Uruk-Hai? The thought frustrated me. I had no destiny other than to be born, live, and die. Alone. It couldn't have been fate, nothing like that, that was reserved for important people.

'Like Aragorn.'

Perhaps fate had made a mistake? This couldn't be the end. The more I thought about it, the more I found myself denying it. It just… it just didn't feel right. I looked over the horizon, the rocky land we would be fighting to protect. For what? So the people would live through the night only to be crushed underfoot as Sauron advanced?

It just wasn't right.

And neither was that black speck on the horizon moving towards the fortress slowly. I did a double take, squinting in an attempt to make out the identity of the speck. Scraggy black hair, or at least in this light, a dark brown horse, dark clothing, a strange slumped position in the saddle. It couldn't be…could it? A minute or so of squinting and shading my eyes from the sun confirmed what I had been hoping so wishfully. I dared to breathe.

"…Aragorn…"